


The Last Good Day of the Year

by lifeinwords



Category: Smallville
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-14
Updated: 2011-06-14
Packaged: 2017-10-20 09:57:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/211518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifeinwords/pseuds/lifeinwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Nothing's the same, Lex. Nothing.' (Season Two Era)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Good Day of the Year

Lex had brought peaches in the picnic basket, knowing Clark wouldn’t want champagne or some elegant creation from his kitchen. They’d always been Clark’s favorite fruit; tenderness that bursts on his tongue, flesh giving under his teeth. He leaned back on the blanket, flicking the pits out into the weeds. Lex was quiet this year, no fireworks or double-edged gifts.

“You know it’s not really my birthday.”

“I know. But it’s the day you and your family celebrate it.”

Clark looked over at Lex, who was carefully posed in the half-shade of the tree. His grandfather had planted that tree and ones like it all along the edge of this field, windbreaks to hold the earth down. Clark had climbed it when he was too young to be trusted near the tractor, and sometimes it’d had plums that were sweet. Sweeter than the peaches Lex had brought, which were from a store somewhere and had bruised spots where stickers had been removed. The tree was dying slowly, now, its fruit withered into husks like empty cocoons. He didn’t tell Lex that.

“We just picked a day. I can barely even remember doing it. August 24th doesn’t really mean anything.” Clark busied himself with folding up the blanket next to the empty basket, something too soft and thin for the land it covered. His land.

“It means you’re a year older, a year closer to college and the wide world.”

Clark didn’t respond. Lex was missing the point, but he couldn’t explain it. Suddenly Lex leaned over and touched his shoulder.

“This summer’s been lonely, hasn’t it?”

Lex rubbed his arm comfortingly, like that could replace losing three of his friends for three months. Three friends, three months, three people who wanted something he couldn’t give.

“Chloe and Pete sent emails, but it’s not the same. And Lana’s always working at the Talon, or visiting Chloe in Metropolis. I know I could’ve gone too. But...”

***

Clark picked up the neatly folded blanket and wrapped it around him suddenly, looking to Lex like a child off to defend his fort from the monsters. Leaving Lex behind, Clark walked out into the field they’d left fallow this year, pushing weeds aside with his hands.

“I always loved August. That’s why I chose today. I can smell fall coming, under the hay and manure, but everything’s still in bloom. Sometimes I think I can feel the sun getting farther away.”

The wind pushed Clark’s hair back off his face, making him look older somehow. Wiser. Clark shivered like it was blowing down his neck. He needed a haircut.

“Everything’s waiting for you, you know. At times I envy you that.” Lex stepped out of the shade and cautiously made his way over the uneven ground. He intended to bring Clark back to their abandoned picnic under the tree, surrounded by fallen fruit and flowers and what Lex had thought was going to be a happy afternoon.

“I have these dreams where I’m older. I’m an adult, in a suit and tie, and I have a job high in a building. I eat Chinese take-out at my desk and I do good work. People respect me. But then it’s raining, hard, like those lightning-storms you get at the end of August. And I’m looking for my family, my friends, so I can make sure they’re safe, but I can’t find them. I only find their—they’re gone. I’m alone.”

“Everyone is afraid of growing up, of failing. They think they won’t make friends at college, or that they’ll never get a date, or a job. You’ve already done the last two, so I wouldn’t worry.” Lex chuckled, hoping to lighten the mood. His laugh died on the breeze, replaced with an awkward silence.

“Nothing’s the same, Lex. Nothing.” Clark’s voice was hollow.

And that stopped Lex short. He’d had birthdays of his own like this, lost and a little confused that the day didn’t mean anything; that nothing got better as one aged. He’d never expected Clark to have them, at least not this young. He waited to see if Clark would say anything else, about the friends who were already pulling away and preparing for departure. Or about the friend who was here, who’d ordered the best peaches he could find and cleared his schedule for Clark’s birthday.

“I’m still here.” Clark didn’t turn around, but Lex knew the expression on his face. Lex squinted up into the sky, pale as pool water in the bright afternoon.

“Did you think I’d forget?” He knew his voice was harsher than it needed to be, that he sounded defensive.

“No, but…” Clark sighed. “Things are different now, Lex. You’re busy.”

“I’m never too busy for you.” Didn’t Clark know that by now?

***

Clark turned around then, backlit by the sun sinking just a little now, and smiled at Lex, who was trying to cheer him up, to be there for him even when he wasn’t sure how. Lex had been trying all day, taking off his loafers in the field and handing him peaches, telling him stories about college and frat parties and girls who never wore underwear. It meant something, something about change and yes, you lost things. He and Lana would never be together, and he’d never be the only child his parents had. This would never be his land.

“Actually, I think it still smells like summer to me. Like things returning. You know how when you’re little, you try to cram everything into the first few weeks of summer vacation, afraid that time will run out? And then it doesn’t, so you think it’ll last forever? Sometimes, it changes into something better.” Lex just grinned and went back for the picnic basket, and Clark knew he’d finally said it right.

“Happy Seventeen, Clark.” And they stood watching the sun slide down past the edge of the field, hands joined so tightly that Clark knew where Lex began, but not where anything ended.


End file.
